Body & Soul
by wizardinblack
Summary: Dean's gotten into one too many bar fights to be considered a "calm" human being, so a friend convinces him to get a professional massage, just to help him relax a little, and he ends up getting way more than what he asked for.
1. Chapter 1

This was stupid. This was so so stupid and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was already there, already crammed in the tiny room, shirt off, pants off, scratchy robe wrapped around his otherwise exposed body, and butt firmly planted on the stiff padded surface.

He shoulda backed out when he could have. Back when he first walked into the building, the building that reminded him oddly enough of a hospital...or a rehab center. Probably something to do with the all white walls, white floors, white ceilings, white everything...He stuck out like a sore thumb. Just walking into the building he had felt the air change in the room. The receptionist looking at him with unsure eyes, eyeballing him up and down, taking in his tattered clothes and messy hair. He had never felt filthier in his life.

"Hey, I, uh, I got a...thing." He had told her upon walking up to the desk. Also all white, with a little mini waterfall fountain thing running behind it. The only sound in the room was the hum from the stream as it ran continuously.

She had smiled nervously, pulled the voucher from his grip and viewed like it was evidence to a crime seen. After inspecting it she put on her best fake smile before looking up at him. "Looks like you get one free full body massage today, sir. Must be a special occasion! Lucky you!"

Dean had tried to smile back, but felt kinda stupid doing so and he was sure it showed on his face.

"It was a gift." He forced out, for some reason feeling like he had to explain. He didn't belong here. She knew it, he knew it, it was stupid to put on airs like this was a normal thing he did every Saturday or whatever bullshit.

The place was too nice. Dean didn't actually know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. When Seth had told him he had gotten him a gift card, an all paid for free massage, he wasn't expecting to be heading to a freaking spa. Like a real full fledged spa. Seth came here every week? What the fuck?

"You need to relax." Seth had told him after an intense gym session together. "You're all wound up. Like all the time."

"Fuck you, man."

"Dude, you look like you're about to fight me just for implying that you need to chill." That was when he handed him the card. "Take this. I go to this place all the time. Helps when I get bad cramps in my legs. They'll do you good. You owe it to yourself. Relax a little bit."

So maybe he was on edge a little bit all the time. Maybe he did get into one too many bar fights to be considered a "chill" person. But whatever. What did it matter? He was a survivor, and he was a survivor just by the skin of his teeth, and that was all that mattered.

He certainly didn't care. He didn't think there was anything wrong with him, but he let Seth talk him into it anyway, and he let the lady at the front desk escort him to a room, and he got undressed and he put on the towel and sat and waited like he was supposed to.

Just to get Seth off his back, he kept telling himself. Best to get it over with, even though he felt like an absolute madman sitting in the all white room that smelt like lavender and sandalwood (don't ask how he was able to pick out those smells either.) It couldn't be that bad right? What was the worst that could happen? There was absolutely nothing to freak out about.

Until the fucking door opened, and in walked the most beautiful man Dean had ever seen. Like so beautiful he almost thought he was haluctionating, and when he realized he wasn't, he actually had to look away because looking at him felt physically painful.

"Alright, how we doing today?" He said, voice like fucking velvet, and Dean wanted to die right on the spot. He was insane. Tall, dark, long black hair pulled into a tight bun, neatly trimmed goatee framing full thick pouty lips, and ripped as shit from what Dean could see under his too tight white t-shirt. The dude looked like a god damn God, and it didn't help that he was dressed in all white, making his skin look like it was fucking glowing or something.

Dean swallowed hard. "Fine." He gritted out, feeling suddenly embarrassed by how crass his voice sounded. Too rough in this soft, nice room. Too rough and too out of place. What was he thinking. He was so stupid. So stupid to think he belonged here, to think he could get away with coming to this rich people fancy nice place and just act normal.

The guy just smiled at him, and Dean tried not to smile back, because what the fuck, honestly?

He clapped his hands together. "Well, my names Roman." Course it was. Did this guy come right out of a romance novel? "And you are?"

"Dean."

"Dean." He repeated, soft smile still on his face. "So, full package today, right?"

And then Dean was suddenly reminded that, oh yeah, this dude was going to be touching him...and he wasn't sure what "full package" meant, but holy shit was he nervous.

To be honest, Dean wasn't really that great with touching. He just...didn't really enjoy it. People touching him, him touching people, all of it. It was a comfort zone that he had trouble reaching most of the time (even when he fucked, he fucked hard and fast and with minimal emotion because who needs all that honestly.) He thought maybe since this was a professional environment he'd be able to suck it up, but now he wasn't so sure. Not only did he feel stupid just for being there, knowing that he looked dumb and out of place, he now felt like a fucking wreck thinking about this dude, Mr-fucking-Greek-God, touching him all over. There was no way he'd be able to keep it together.

Roman must have sensed his uneasiness because he broke the silence. "First time?"

God, he just had to say it like that. "Yeah...a, uh, friend suggested I come here...said I was too tense all the time...or something." He let out a forced laugh. "I guess you can tell this isn't really my scene?"

Roman set him with a firm look, and Dean bristled under his gaze as he gave a show of giving him a once over, eyes slowly sliding down his body from head to toe. Suddenly he chuckled, "A skeptic, huh? I like a challenge."

And, ok, that was...weird? Was he checking him out?

Dean shrugged it off, tried to sound as casual as possible. "Just not sure if this is for me. Really just wanted to get him to stop bugging me about it."

"Well, nothing wrong with that." Roman said simply, then walked over to a cabinet where Dean assumed he was getting things ready for them to start whatever this was. "Who's your friend?"

"Seth." Dean said flatly, then quickly continued, figuring he probably didn't know him just by his name. "Um, kinda tall, long dark hair, got a blond patch in it."

"Ah, the crossfit guy." Roman cut him off. "Never been my client but I've seen him come around here a few times."

Dean felt weirdly happy that Seth had never gotten a massage from this particular dude before, but he wasn't sure why. Bragging rights, maybe? No way Seth hadn't spotted him before.

"You do crossfit too?" Roman kept the conversation going, turning around to put some lotions and oils on the stand next to the table he was sitting on.

"Hell no." Dean laughed, feeling a little better now that there was a normal conversation happening. "Don't see the point in all that fancy stuff. Give me a room with a punching bag and no air conditioning and I'm set."

He sorta regretted saying it right after the words left his mouth, because this dude was huge. He definitely worked out, and for all he knew he totally could have just offended him. Last thing he needed was to piss of this guy. He could probably snap his neck like a twig.

To Dean's relief though, he just laughed. "Yeah. Tried the crossfit thing two or three times myself and it wasn't for me either. To each his own, right?"

Dean laughed too, feeling better again. Trying to act natural as he watched Roman finish preparing.

"So, I know you got kinda forced into this, but before we start, are there any problem areas? Anything you want me to focus on? Or anything you want me to avoid? Anything you can think of at all?"

Dean shook his head, unable to think of anything on the spot. Seth just said he had to loosen up, he didn't really have any sore spots to think of himself.

"Alright, let's get started then. Front or back?"

It took Dean a few seconds before he knew what he meant. "Uh, back." He settled on, figuring that way he at least wouldn't have to look this guy in the face.

"Sounds good, on your stomach please." Roman gave him one last smile before Dean listened, moving to lay flat on his stomach. "Ah, wait. The robe."

"Oh, right." Dean awkwardly mumbled, remembering that, yeah, he did have to take that off. He slipped it off his shoulders, leaving it kinda loosely around his waist as he turned to lay down. It fell down on him a bit, but Roman quickly adjusted it as he took position on his belly, resting it on him so it covered just his ass.

And whatever ease he had started to feel before was suddenly gone again. He laid on the table, achingly stiff as he waited for Roman to get started. He could hear the man moving around, heard the pop of a cap opening, felt the drizzle of oil on his back and shivered. Then, when the man's hands finally touched him, he couldn't help but flinch a little.

Roman chuckled soothingly. "Just relax." He spoke under his breath.

It took a couple moments, but Dean finally started to calm down. He forced his body to relax, to not tense up at the touches, and eventually his body was pliable enough that Roman was able to do his job properly.

And holy fuck did he do it good. Dean felt himself fucking melting, like his body was becoming one with the table beneath him. Roman's hands were just kneading him into putty and his body kept sinking more and more into relaxation, until all his limbs were buzzing with happy pleasure. He had never felt anything like it.

"Looks like your friend had reason to be concerned. You got a lot of tension in your neck and shoulders." Roman said, but Dean wasn't even listening. He didn't even realize he had let out a moan in a weak attempt at a response, even though he didn't know what he was responding to.

Roman just continued to work, moving from his neck to his shoulders, to his arms back up to his shoulders, to his back to his sides, then to his lower back. Dean was suddenly really fucking happy he decided to do this.

Then, the hands moved down further.

"You know, that's a good thing your friend was looking out for you like that. Stress can cause a lot of other health issues, both mental and physical...sometimes it's good to just unwind. We all have to remind ourselves of that from time to time."

Roman's voice was like a soft purr in his ear. Dean groaned in response, still not really listening as he felt the hands move past his ass and onto his thighs and damn if that wasn't the fucking spot.

The hands moved down further, and Dean couldn't help but let out a little noise of disappointment as they moved from his thighs to his calves. But his disappointment wasn't long lasting as they returned to the spot just below his ass. Roman dug his thumbs into the flesh there and Dean groaned again.

"So, are you close?"

Dean's eyes burst open, and he hadn't even remembered closing them. "Uh, what?"

"You and your friend," Roman clarified, unphased by Dean's apparent shock. "Seth, right? Are you guys close?"

"Oh, uh," Dean mumbled, getting comfortable again. "He's just a friend."

He wasn't sure why that was his answer, or why he chose to word it like that. It wasn't like the dude had asked if they were, like, fucking dating or whatever, and yet he still decided to answer like that without even thinking. He felt kinda embarrassed afterwards, like he had revealed too much about himself somehow.

But then Roman dug his thumbs into his thighs again, swooping them up in a circle that touched the bottom of his ass, skimming slightly under the fabric of the robe, and it...it felt so good Dean's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he had to force himself not to arch into the touch.

Roman didn't ask any more questions, just hummed in response to Dean's answer and continued to work. After a couple more minutes of Roman working his lower half, he gave him a little pat on his thigh.

"Alright, you wanna turn over now?"

And that's when Dean's stomach lurched. Because he had just now realized that he had a raging boner, which was all fine and dandy when he was laying on his stomach, but now Roman wanted him to turn on his back? And he was just supposed to lay there with his dick pointing to the fucking sky and ignore it like it was no big deal? Hell fucking no.

Dean quickly lifted himself up on his elbows. He peaked around and saw Roman looking at him expectantly. Meeting the man's gaze just made it worse. Yup, just as good looking as he was 30 minutes ago. Fuck. He turned away, biting his lip to keep from cursing out loud, or even worse, moaning.

Sitting up as fast he could, he grabbed the robe and shoved it into his crotch, and then made no move to lay down again.

"Um, listen, I really think my time is up and I probably should be getting outta here." He spoke in one breath, avoiding eye contact.

Roman gave him a confused look. "You have a voucher for a full body massage. You're entitled to at least one more half hour. If you don't want me to do your front…"

"No, no!" Dean cut him off, finally looking him in the eye, and immediately regretting it. Fuck, he was hot. And damn him for having blue eyes. Not helping his dick situation at all. "I just...you know, I think I decided this isn't really for me." He gestured wildly around the room with his free hand that wasn't keeping the robe on his dick. "I mean this place is nice. Like, really know, not really the place for a guy like me. I should probably leave."

He was rambling but he didn't care. Roman gave him one last confused look before his eyes flicked down to Dean's hand on his crotch, and then smiled when he met his eyes again. Dean could have fucking died.

"Ok, um, I think I see what's happening here," Roman started, chuckling a little bit.

"No, I-" Dean tried to defend himself.

"Dean, I get it." Roman held his hands up, stopping him. "It happens all the time."

Dean knew Roman was trying to make him feel better, but he still just felt mortified. Things like this didn't happen to Dean. Dean was the cool, stone cold, stone faced guy who gave other people problem boners and turned them into sputtering messes, not the other fucking way around! Fuck this guy for turning the tables on him!

Roman licked his lips, smirking at him a bit. "Listen, I know this place can be kinda stuffy."

Uh, what? Dean squinted at him, unsure of what he was getting at.

"I get it. Some people feel like the set up is a little too...clinical for their liking. Puts them on edge a bit. I don't blame 'em. Sometimes the all white makes me feel like I'm working in an asylum or something." He laughed and Dean nervously huffed out a laugh with him.

Eyeing him with a steady gaze, Roman reached into his pocket. He pulled out a business card and handed it to him. "I do house calls too. Maybe you'd feel more at ease if we did this at your place? I'd hate to have you miss out on your full package."

Dean stared at the card in his hand, dumbfounded. Roman Reigns. Body and Soul Massage Therapist. There was a number at the bottom.

Dean cleared his throat. "Um, y-yeah. That...sounds good actually."

"Cool." Roman gave him a friendly slap on the arm. "Call me, and we'll set up an appointment."

"Sure." Holy shit was this really happening? Was this dude really giving him his number? To make a fucking house call? What did that mean? There was no way he didn't notice Dean's, uh, predicament, so he had to know, right? He had to be doing this on purpose, right?

Glaring up from looking at the card in his hand, he asked, "You do house calls for everybody?"

Suddenly, he became very aware of how very naked he was (aside from the robe hastily shoved over his crotch,) as the other man raked his eyes over his exposed body. And, yeah, Dean definitely caught that, and that was definitely intentional. This dude knew what he was doing.

Leaning in a little bit, Roman whispered. "Only to those who truly have earned it."

Dean held his gaze, still feeling a little surprised, until Roman broke it with a more hearty laugh.

"So, call me. We'll set up the second half of your appointment. Really, your friend was right. You're all wound up. One more session with me in the comfort of your own home and we'll beat that tension right out of you, trust me."

Dean felt like he could beat something outta himself right now. Beat the meat he was packing til he came so hard he couldn't see straight.

"Alright." He said, slow and easy, trying to will himself to calm down. "I'll give you a ring."

"Great. I look forward to it." Roman finished. Giving his clothed covered crotch one last glance, and eyeing the rest of his exposed body for a good measure too, Roman backed out of the room, leaving Dean to put his clothes back on in peace.

So. That was definitely a thing that happened.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Sorry it took me so long to finish this! Thank you to those who read and reviewed and thank you for being patient...

* * *

Dean almost didn't call. He almost talked himself out of it. But, that dude was fucking gorgeous, and he was definitely flirting with him. For a minute there he couldn't believe it, like it was a prank or something. Like Seth was gonna jump out at him and yell, "Haha you thought!"

But that never happened, so that meant it was real. He still didn't really get it. Why would a guy like that be interested in him? Maybe it was just business and Dean was looking too much into it. Maybe the dude really wasn't interested at all. Well, now Dean really wanted to see him again, because he's Dean Ambrose and Dean Ambrose does not back down from a challenge, especially if there's a big possibility he could be getting laid at the end of it. That was the kinda guy Dean was, and he wasn't gonna let some gorgeous Greek God of a man syke him out. No one had ever made him this nervous before. It was unsettling. He had to fucking man up and stop being so weird about it, or he'd never be able to live it down.

So, he called. He called and he set up a time for Roman to come to his apartment to get the second half of his massage.

It wasn't until the day of that he realized, oh yeah, the dude was coming to his apartment. Suddenly, he felt embarrassed of his tiny one bedroom apartment that was way too "college student" looking for someone in their late 20s who had never even gone to college. He quickly tried to clean up and rearrange some things, and then immediately felt stupid afterwards because why the hell should he even bother? Why was he letting this thing - this thing that was not even a fucking date or anything - get to him so much?

He had moved the coffee table about three times by the time there was a knock on his door. Only then did he realize he didn't even think about what he was wearing. He was still dressed in the shirt he woke up in (a so-old-the-black-had-faded-to-grey Black Sabbath t-shirt, that had little holes by the collar and a tear near the bottom) and tattered jeans he had picked up from the floor and threw on in the morning. He supposed it didn't really matter. Not like he was gonna be keeping them on for long anyway. Now, usually that thought would make him happy, but for once it was just making him uneasy.

"Be right there!" He yelled, running a quick hand through his hair as he stole a glance at himself in the hall mirror. Day old stubble, hair sticking out all sorts of ways. It would have to do.

When he opened the door he was a little taken aback by what he saw. Same guy, and yeah he was still attractive as fuck, but he just looked so different without the all white getup he was in before. His hair was down, and it looked a little damp, like maybe he had just taken a shower before coming over. He also had some stubble himself, his goatee no longer the only hair on his face, but instead it looked like he had the beginnings of a full beard coming in. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt, one that was still too tight for him, not that Dean was complaining, and jeans. All in all, he looked good. Maybe even better. Like this guy Dean could see himself actually trying to approach in a bar or something, not the clean cut guy he had met earlier.

Dean huffed out a breath, feeling a little better. He gestured for the man to come inside. "Well, come on in."

Roman just smiled and nodded his head in greeting, walking past Dean and into the living room where he set down the massage table (that was folded up with handles like a suitcase.)

"This is it." Dean stood behind him, not sure what to do. "Um, dunno how you wanna-"

"This is fine." Roman cut him off, looking at Dean from over his shoulder. "We can do it where ever you want. Here or in your bedroom. Where ever you think you'll be most comfortable."

It didn't matter to Dean of course. They could do it here, in his room, on the floor, on the kitchen counter, in the shower...what was he talking about again?

"Here is fine." Dean finally answered. "My bedroom's kinda on the small side."

Roman nodded and began to set up the table in the middle of his tiny living room (next to his couch and coffee table,) while Dean stood awkwardly to the side. So, so far Roman seemed to be all business. Disappointing.

When he was finished setting up the table, he turned to Dean and threw him a smirk. "Ready when you are."

"Ok." Dean said lamely.

Roman's smirk turned into a grin. "Your clothes."

"Oh! Right." Dean quickly turned around in a jerky motion and rushed into the bathroom. He tossed off his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist.

When Dean reentered the room Roman was laying out some oils and lotions on his coffee table, a single lit candle in the midst of them, not paying attention to him. Dean cleared his throat, feeling a little odd in just his towel.

Roman turned to look at him with a smile, and for a split second Dean noticed that smile fall as he took in his body. His eyes flicked down to his bare chest before landing back on his face again, and just as quickly the smile was back.

"Ready when you are." Dean shot back at him, feeling a little surge of confidence.

"Let's get started then," Roman laughed out lightly, and gestured towards to table.

This time, Dean decided to lay on his back. He figured he could handle Roman doing his front now. The guy had been right, being in his own home did make a difference. He felt much more at ease.

Once Dean was laying down and Roman had rubbed some oil on his hands he began, starting first at his right arm. Dean let out a little sigh. Easy Peasy.

Roman started kneading the skin of his wrist, up his forearm, and then to his upper arm leading to his shoulder. It wasn't an area Dean thought he needed much attention on, but damn he was glad Roman went for it. He was already starting to loosen up. Plus, the innocence of it made it easier to look at the man above him.

"You make house calls a lot?" Dean asked, feeling comfortable enough to start small talk.

Roman laughed, not looking at Dean, but instead staying focused on what his own hands were doing. His long hair had fallen in his face a bit, framing it with a black curtain. "Not really anymore. Used to a lot when I was younger, when I worked for myself and not with the spa."

"You ever get any, like, weirdos?" Dean asked offhandedly.

Roman laughed again. "Why're you asking? Should I be worried?"

"Mmh, nah, don't think so at least." Dean hummed back, letting his eyes drift close a bit. "I mean, I just know...you know…"

"What?"

Dean didn't want to finish. He didn't want to offend the dude, but, everyone knew the stigma attached to "professional" massages. He didn't want to come out and say it. He didn't want it to come off like he was implying, "hey man, am I gonna get a happy ending or what?"

And suddenly Dean felt very nervous again. What if that was the situation? As much as Dean wouldn't mind getting a "happy ending" from this dude, he wasn't really into the idea of paying for sex. Dean didn't need to pay for sex. Did Roman get the impression that he looked like a lowlife who would? Was Roman even his real name? It did sound a little too nice...And how much would that even cost? What if this guy leaves looking for like a $500 check or something? $500 seemed like an expensive handjob, but what did Dean know? This man was gorgeous, he probably could charge like a million bucks just to be in his presence. Well, it would explain why someone like him was even interested in someone like Dean in the first place...

"Dean?" Roman brought him out of his thoughts, and Dean peaked his eyes open to look at him. He had a concerned look on his face. "You alright? I'm not too rough am I?"

Dean realized his inner thoughts must have been translating to his face, and instantly tried to relax. "Nah, you're good man. Just got a little...lost in my head."

"Ah, yeah. It happens." Roman reassured in response, stopping his ministrations to grab some more oil.

He then poured some onto Dean's chest, making him shiver. Just by reflex, he squared up a bit, waiting for what Roman was going to do next.

Unsurprisingly, Roman's hands found his chest, and began kneading the flesh there, running the oil over his collarbones and pectorals, and down the sides of his stomach. Dean tried to relax like he had been before, but it was a little hard with the hottest dude he'd ever seen basically rubbing his nipples. Dean never even considered himself to be terribly sensitive there, but the way Roman was caressing him, his large hands sliding down his stomach then back up, spreading his fingers wide, digging into the lower flesh of his chest and then thumbs swooping over their peaks, was making him squirm like a little bitch. And when his thumbs caught on his nipples in such a way that, holy fuck, Dean couldn't help but let out a little gasp.

He tried to cover it up by clearing his throat. "So, uh, you worked for yourself? What made you get a job at the spa then?"

Usually Dean wasn't one for small talk, but he could feel his dick stirring under the thin little towel sitting on his waist and decided that maybe if he kept talking it'd distract him enough from getting a boner.

"I moved." Roman answered simply. "Lost all my usual clients, and it's hard to get new ones. So, it seemed like a good idea just to settle down with the spa. I miss working for myself though. Picked my own hours, didn't have any of my pay going to a third party, and I didn't have to worry about a dress code or anything."

Dean laughed at that, daring to open his eyes again and steal a look at the other man.

"Yeah man, almost thought you were a different guy when I opened the door."

Roman laughed back. "Oh yeah, they can be a little strict. I mean, I like working there, but sometimes it's a little uptight."

"I'll say," Dean chuckled again as he recalled his visit there. "Thought the lady at the front desk was gonna have a heart attack the second she saw me."

"Trust me, you have no idea how happy I was to see you were my client." Roman said, a smile still on his lips.

"Oh yeah?" Dean couldn't help but pry a little. He let his eyes slip closed again as Roman skipped over his pelvic region and moved down to his legs, starting at his ankles.

"Yeah," Roman answered, his voice growing a little distant as he focused more on the task at hand. "Sometimes, it sucks. The kind of people that come in there, I mean. They're all rich, yuppie types. And as much as I love my job I really hate having to keep up airs for these people. I think if they knew I'd rather spend my weekend watching the game at a dive bar and drinking beer, instead of sitting on a yacht, they'd refuse to let me touch them."

Dean didn't throw the "love" word around easily, but, fuck, he might love this dude.

"Gotta say, I'm a little offended you assume that I don't spend my weekends sitting on a yacht."

"Well, let's just say it was wishful thinking then." Roman spoke in an oddly coy manner that caught Dean a little off guard. "It just feels good, working with someone who is normal."

And Dean wanted to fucking laugh out loud at that, because, seriously? No one has ever referred to Dean as "normal," but he wasn't going to say that to Roman, so he stayed silent.

Roman stayed silent too, and just continued working as their conversation fizzled into nothing. He moved up his legs, working the flesh of his shins, past his knees, and onto his thighs. Dean tried to steady himself, willing his body to relax as Roman dug into the soft sensitive skin there.

The towel he had wrapped around his waist went to about the middle of his thighs, so in order to give himself some more room Roman began slowly inching up the fabric as he went. Pretty soon it was just barely covering his dick, and Dean could tell by the sudden draft he was feeling down there that if Roman wanted to he could probably take a peek at his balls right then. He tried not to think about it. He didn't want to get too caught up in the feeling of being exposed and ruin his relaxed state of mind. Especially considering it had taken him so long to even get there in the first place.

Instead he just focused on Roman's hands. The way his fingers moved, the way the oil on them made them glide smoothly, smooth like silk, along his skin. The way the pads of his digits would press firmly in, almost rough enough to hurt but not enough to bruise. It felt amazing, just having someone touch him like this, having all the attention on him. It was a weird feeling...one that would usually freak him out, which it obviously did at first, but now it felt kinda nice, just letting it happen for once.

Roman had one hand on each of his thighs, and his fingers splayed out, stretching over the junction of where his thighs met his pelvis, stretching over the expanse of skin there and moving toward the middle. He massaged the innards of his thighs, squeezing and stroking. It made Dean groan, the way it ached, the way those rough hands bore into the sensitive meat there. The sinews of his legs felt like they were on fire, tingling and burning with the way his body hummed in pleasure. He hadn't even registered that his breathing had picked up, and apparently neither had Roman because he kept going. He kept his focus on the intimate area, paying special attention to his inner thighs and then moving up, hands slipping under the towel to skim over his hip bones, and then back down again.

It had him squirming, the way Roman's hands were teasing his skin...And they were so close...so close to such an intimate part of his body, like they were testing him. He wanted to rock his hips upwards, give his slowly hardening cock some kind of friction. Wanted Roman's slick fingers to wrap themselves around him and to just send him to heaven, because, God, if his fingers were this good everywhere else he could only imagine what they'd be like on his cock...

And that's when Dean realized, yeah, he was fully hard now, and, bursting his eyes open he picked his head up and looked down just to confirm, and yup, his dick was sticking up towards his belly plain as day tenting under his towel.

He sat up abruptly, practically colliding with Roman's head as the man was leaned over him, and awkwardly stammered while attempting to cover himself, "Ah, dude, I, uh, I'm sorry just -"

Roman leaned back a bit, slightly taken aback by Dean's outburst, but didn't remove his hands from Dean, instead just let them slide further down his legs, resting right above his knees, and he pulled back to look the other man in the face.

Dean tried to avoid eye contact, feeling very flushed all the sudden and unsure what the proper etiquette would be in this situation? Like, what does one say when they're in this predicament? 'Sorry bro, don't mind me I just got a fucking killer boner over here because of your God like hands and I kinda don't want you to stop but at the same time I'm fucking mortified?'

"I, uh," Dean tried again, clearing his throat a bit and still refusing to make eye contact. "We should stop here."

"Do you want me to stop?" Roman asked, voice shockingly quiet and dead serious.

Dean snapped his head up to meet his eyes. Roman was looking at him intently, almost like it was a challenge, and his hands had never left his body. He eyed him suspiciously, looking from his face to the hands still sitting on his legs, and then back. As much as Dean wanted to believe he was getting the clear go ahead from this dude, he still wasn't sure, and he still felt nervous as shit.

"Um...no?" He tried, looking at Roman like he was waiting to see if that was the right answer.

Pulling back a bit, Roman chuckled, soft and easy, but not at all mocking even though Dean was sure he deserved it, and Dean watched as he eyed his, now half hard, cock making a tent in his towel before he spoke again. "Listen, Dean, how 'bout we do your back again? Would that be better?" Roman prompted him, giving him a very pointed look, one that Dean still couldn't read. He couldn't tell if Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome was geniuing flirting with him, or if Dean himself was just projecting his own feelings onto him. Dean wasn't really used to people being bold with him, and the idea that someone who looked like this was even interested in him at all made it feel even weirder. He had to be imagining things.

"Yeah. Yeah, ok." Dean conceded, because why the fuck not, he might as well enjoy it while he can considering he may never get an opportunity like this again, and if Roman wasn't freaked out by him getting not one but two boners in front of him then it must be a good sign, right? So, after fumbling a little with his towel, he turned over and layed on his stomach.

Roman set to work once more, adding more oil onto Dean's back and his own hands before continuing. This time, the oil was warm and it tingled, and Dean was grateful because it provided enough of a distraction that he almost forgot about the shit show that just happened.

Until Roman was back at his ass again, that is. He had started at his calves, up his thighs, and then inching slower and slower upwards, grazing the bottom of his ass again and sliding up further, deliberately, like he was testing the waters, waiting for Dean to react.

"Do you mind?" Roman asked, and Dean felt him tug at the towel, and Dean wasn't really sure what he was asking, but he grunted in response without thinking, and Roman took it as a good sign, yanking the towel away completely.

He gasped as the sudden chill hit his exposed bottom, and he must have sounded really strange because Roman stopped a moment to ask, "This ok?"

"Y-yeah," Dean sputtered, because it would be more embarrassing to back out now that he was already bare assed.

Roman went ahead and began working his body once more right at his upper thighs. Dean let out a deep breath, forcing his body to relax into the touch.

But with the towel gone now, Roman took that as permission to rome the newly exposed flesh. Starting slow, he inched up his skin, his large hands enclosing over the globes of his ass, fingers spread and kneading roughly. After the first touch, he spoke again, voice lower and gruffer than before. "This ok?" He repeated.

Dean groaned, unable to speak out of both pleasure and shock, and finding it literally impossible to hold back any sounds he was making with the way Roman was touching him. The dude was testing him, he was exploring Dean's body with more intent than a massage, and Dean couldn't believe his luck because holy shit what did he fucking do now? What did this even mean? He laid there stupidly as Roman waited and eventually he took his lack of words as a good sign and continued. His hands moved in wide circular motions, repeating the motion over and over and with more deliberation each time. His fingers spread the globes of flesh, thumbs darting up and down, up and down, and down lower and lower until they reached the most intimate part of Dean, just barely, barely even grazing it, but enough for Dean to know, finally, yup, this was happening.

Once again he asked, "This ok?" Pausing right as his one thumb had rested lightly on his hole, not moving and just with the littlest amount of pressure, waiting for Dean to give him the green light.

And all Dean could do was shift his legs, slightly opening them wider, giving the man above him the room he needed, letting him know that, yeah, this was ok, this was way more than ok. Dean still didn't quite understand it, but, fuck if he was turning back now. Who knew the next time he'd get an opportunity like this with someone who looked the way Roman did. And thinking about it, it briefly made Dean wish that he had stayed laying on his back, so he'd be able to look at him, or maybe even reciprocate. He wasn't really sure what to do now, or what this guy expected. It had been awhile since Dean had been on the receiving end of things, but you know, whatever, you only live once, right?

At that, Roman's hands left his body, giving Dean a mini panic attack because did he do something wrong? Why was he stopping? But then a second later a single hand was at his ass again, pulling up his right buttcheek, exposing his hole to the cool air, and he jumped when he felt a drizzle of oil being poured onto his skin, falling down the crack of his ass and wetting his entrance.

Dean held his breath waiting for those hands to return to his body as Roman set down the oil, and when they did, gripping at his ass and spreading him wide again, thumbs arching to stroke him in one wide swoop, he let out a deep groan, barely missing the gasp of air leaving the man above him as well.

Roman teased his hole with his thumb some more, lightly circling it with little pressure, just enough to relax him a bit, before doing the same with his index finger and then slowly, slowly pressing in.

It had been a while for Dean, but with the slow build of the massage and Roman's gentle touch the intrusion slipped in easily, and Dean tried to steady his breathing as he waited for what was to come next.

Roman waited, distracting Dean by his other hand continuing to massage the flesh of his ass as he took his time letting Dean adjust. It felt weirdly soothing, and Dean wouldn't typically say a finger in his ass felt soothing, but just the way Roman continued to calm him with kneading touches and remaining still inside him, Dean almost felt like he could stay like this forever.

And then he pushed another finger in him, and Dean might have been more prepared if he wasn't in such a daze, but it took him off guard and he let out a sharp gasp. It didn't phase Roman though, who apparently was done waiting around, because he began pushing in and out of him, thrusting his fingers into him deep and slow, and with the same intent Dean had felt from him earlier.

And fuck, Dean figured he'd be good with his hands but this was some next level shit. He started slow, pushing in deep like he was searching for something, spreading and twisting his fingerings until Dean was squirming, wanting him to go faster and harder. But Roman kept it slow and steady, almost like he was giving him a massage on the instead of his body, and when he pressed against his prostate he added a third finger, stretching Dean wider than he had been stretched in a while.

Dean bit his lip, trying not to make anymore embarrassing sounds than he already had, and wrapped his arms over his head, gripping at his hair as he thrust his hips, his cock trapped between his body and the massage table beneath him. Roman pushed into him deeper, keeping his fingers in place right against his prostate, prodding against it in tiny circular motions aided by the stir of Dean's hips.

Dean pulled at his hair harder, his mouth now slack and not caring about the noises he was releasing, he panted and moaned, letting out little gasps and whimpers totally unlike him as he thrust back on Roman's fingers. He couldn't remember the last time he felt anything like this, having such a sensitive part of his body singled out and abused, he felt light headed, he was seeing white behind his eyelids, and he felt like he was racing to the finish line but never wanted it to end at the same time.

"That's it," Roman spoke above him, deep and breathy, like he was as out of breath as Dean felt. "Take what you need."

And Dean did, rocking his hips faster, Roman kept his hand on his hip, aiding the motion, and the fingers in him stayed zeroed in on his prostate like he was a sniper with perfect sight. His cock, untouched from any human hand, ached for something, anything, and on every thrust back from Roman Dean thrust forward, rubbing his cock against the surface beneath him, rough and uneasy, a sharp contrast to the set of hands at his backside, but enough to drive him fucking insane.

"F-Fuck, holy shit," Dean gasped, feeling himself leaning over the edge and just waiting for Roman to push him off, send him over and falling, falling until he crashed and burned because fuck if this wouldn't be the best way to die, and then he let out a silent scream, his mouth falling open and his hands slipping from the top of his head to the back of his neck, scratching at his skin because fuck it was too much. It was too much, the way Roman kept a very deliberate constant pressure on his prostate overwhelming him to the point where he literally felt like he might go insane, until finally, finally but at the same time much too soon, he was coming, and it was so intense it felt like it was being pulled out of him, ripped out of him like air leaving his body after a punch to the gut. Roman kept up his ministrations while Dean went through it, come leaking out of his cock like he was being milked like a cow as he rubbed it raw on the table beneath him, and it wasn't until his muscles were twitching that Roman finally pulled away.

Dean dropped his hands from his head and took a moment to catch his breath. Holy fuck, that was...that was something else, and his head still felt light headed by the time he could breathe normally again.

"Fucking christ," he mumbled, raising himself up on shaky arms as he realized he was laying in his own jiz. And then, oh yeah, his jiz on a massage table that belonged to Roman...the dude he barely knew who just gave him the best orgasm of his life.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing himself to face this guy and if he wasn't sure of the etiquette beforehand he sure as shit wasn't sure of it now.

Sitting up, he turned his body to sit on the edge of the table. Awkwardly, he looked down at the surface now covered in his come, and then down at his own stomach which had some smeared on there as well, and attempted to wipe it off with his hand, only making even more of a mess.

"Sorry, I think I ruined your table-" He started to sputter in an attempt at elevating the awkward air in the room, but then two slick oil covered hands were grabbing the sides of his face and a pair of lips were being smashed onto his own.

His eyes were wide, staring at Roman's closed ones, as he froze in shock. He wasn't expecting the guy to kiss him, although it wasn't unwelcomed, he just wasn't sure if this was one of those hookups that were just sex and no intimacy (who was he kidding though because that was the most intimate and exposing moment of his life) or what. Not only that, but he didn't know what to do, not because he was inexperienced or whatever, but because he had a hand full of jiz and fuck he wanted to reciprocate, he wanted to sink his fingers into those dark long curls and pull him deeper, but well...he had a hand full of jiz, so he just sat there awkwardly and did nothing.

"That was fucking hot," Roman mumbled over his lips, out of breath and sounding starved, before pulling back. He looked Dean in the eye then, and Dean felt like he was truly seeing him for the first time. They were still so close, so close that he could now make out the little freckles on his face that he hadn't noticed before. They were cute, and suddenly Dean felt overwhelmed all over again, but for entirely different reasons than before.

Blushing, he jerked his head away, and stammered again, "I ruined your table." Because that was a smart thing to say and Dean was a smart guy, clearly.

Roman let his hands drop to his sides and stared at him for a moment. Dean tried not to meet his eyes, still feeling a little unsure of himself.

"Dude, it's cool." He said, voice calm but his eyes holding a suspicious glint. After a moment he picked up the discarded towel on the ground and handed it to Dean, who was still staring at his jiz covered hand like it held all the answers in the world.

Dean nodded in thanks as he took it and began to clean himself off and as he did a heavy silence fell over them.

"Hey, listen," Roman broke the silence. "Did I screw up? Did I read this situation wrong or something? Cause if I made you do anything you're not comfortable with I'm really sorry I just thought-"

"No!" Dean cut off his rambling, then cleared his throat. "No, man. I just, uh, fuck. I dunno, man. This is weird." He wasn't even talking at Roman at this point, just mumbling under his breath trying to put his thoughts together.

Roman sighed. "I didn't mean to weird you out...I mean I thought I made it pretty obvious I was interested in you..." He let a nervous laugh out at that, and Dean was pretty sure that was the first time he heard the other man be anything other than cool and calm. The surprise of it made him look up at him again and now he could see it clearly written all over his face.

Roman looked uncomfortable, his face flush either from what happened earlier or from embarrassment now, Dean wasn't sure, but it gave him the confidence to finally voice his feelings.

He let out a nervous laugh of his own. "No, I mean, yeah. I guess I'm just waiting for there to be like...a catch, or whatever…"

Roman's eyes snapped to him sharply. "You think I'm a prostitute?" He asked flatly. "You think I'm gonna make you pay me for what I just did to you and that's the only reason I did it?"

Dean held up his hands in surrender, dropping the towel as he did. "No! That's not what I mean! I just meant like," he paused, taking an exaggerated look at the man before him, "Let's just say people like you ain't usually interested in people like me."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I could say the same to you."

And Dean couldn't help but laugh at that, because fucking really? Was this guy for real?

Roman didn't think it was nearly as funny though. "See, that's the fucking thing. I told you man, I deal with yuppies all day and everybody looks at me and they automatically assume all this shit about me." Dean's laughter died out as Roman spoke, a little taken aback by how serious he was getting. "And especially when they find out I'm gay they think I'm gonna be like this dominating guy who only fucks twinks or whatever just 'cause of my size, but really I just want a guy who can kill a twenty-four pack with me and lift weights with me and then give it to me just as good as he can take it. And maybe I got a little ahead of myself with you, but I saw you and I just couldn't help it-"

And then it was Dean's turn to cut him off as he leaped up from the table and grabbed at Roman's head, crashing them together in the most intense kiss he's ever had.

They both pulled apart a moment later, gasping for breath and breathing into each other's open mouths.

"So, you want this, huh?" Dean asked, still breathless.

"Fuck, yeah," Roman answered, lips ghosting over his jawline.

Dean snaked his fingers under his shirt, finally getting a chance to touch the God like man he'd been drooling over this whole time, and then, roughly shoved him back. Roman stumbled as he was taken off guard and Dean rushed after him, crowding against him and pushing him back further, leading him toward his bedroom. "How 'bout I show you just how good I can give it, then, huh?"

Roman laughed against his mouth, allowing himself to be lured backwards and falling onto Dean's bed.

And yeah, Dean was gonna have to send Seth a thank you gift or something, because this was the best fucking decision he's ever made in his whole life.


End file.
